


Fullstop.

by Anihan (Nakagami)



Series: Jim and John, and Moran watches on. [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Harassment, Hate mail, Jim Moriarty is not a victim, Johann Watson is not a victim, Note the characters, Or was saying (Victims) me clarifying the two previous terms?, Other, People Abuse, Read more to find out!, Think "how many times did he fall out that window" type violence, also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakagami/pseuds/Anihan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johann videoblogs ("vlogs") through Youtube. It goes badly. Chapters 1-4 are her vlog entries. Chapter 5 is not. Tags are for chapters 4 and 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First post!

"So. Hi world, I'm J and I'm an alcoholic. Just kidding. But seriously, call me J because my kidnapper - just this guy who locks me in his house all day, wants me around all the time like his pet - he won't let me use my full name. (John Watson, by the way, for anyone who is interested.) Says someone might recognize it, someone in England maybe, someone who works with the police. Please.

"Anyway, he won't let you call me by my name, so just call me J. Not John. Please don't call me John anymore. Please."

"..."

"So this video. Neat, right? Guy kidnaps a girl and then lets her have a webcam and wifi. Sounds like a dirty joke or the plot of a porn or something. Not that I watch porn. I'm twelve, see. That's frowned upon for twelve year olds. And girls. Did I mention that? Creepy dude holding a twelve year old girl hostage? I turn thirteen soon I think but damn. Pretty fucked up. Anyway.

"I'm stuck. Kinda trapped here, actually. By Jim. Oops, I mean my kidnapper, my unnamed kidnapper, last name Moriarty. He says I'm not supposed to say anything incriminating or describe him, so forget I said that, okay?

"It's just that it's so weird, you know? He's scary but he's not *that* scary. I know he doesn't like it when I disobey but, really, what's he gonna do? To be honest I think he likes it when I misbehave. He gets all affectionate when I talk back, gets all handsy and wants a cuddle. Guess who gets to be the big spoon.

"He says I'm not allowed to describe him, but he says it in that way that isn't quite looking down your nose when you're that short. Nice nose, too, not broken or hooked or anything you'd expect of a criminal at all. But he hasn't told me what I am allowed to do. He puts down rules but he hasn't actually told me not to break any of them.

"So I've come to the conclusion that he wants me to.

"Anyway, right, diary. Sorry. I've a couple thoughts for you. A request or two, actually.

"Dear diary, find Sherlock Holmes. I know for a fact that the Holmes kids can save me. Might not be named Sherlock actually - because I'm not actually named John, so just because mine was named Sherlock doesn't mean this one is. So Holmes. H O L M E S. Probably Sherlock. I can't imagine her with another name.

"And Diary, when you find me Holmes, give him or her this message: The birds are a lie.

"Did you get that, Diary? It's code. Means, 'I am waiting for you. Rescue me.'

"Now you have to get that message to them, Diary. It's important. So I am sending this out on the web hoping that someone will find this and give it to them. To the Holmes. Because they can find me. Please.

"Ahem. Well. For added incentive, I've taken something from Jim's room. And his laptop. It's labeled as Bruce-Pattington, whatever that means. Still. Find out who lost this and then you will find your way to me.

"That makes it your move, Mycroft Holmes. That's M Y C R O F T. Come and get me."

Click.

 


	2. A video to celebrate my first comment!

"So that was a roundhouse kick of success! I've gotten exactly zero comments so far. Did Jim block me? I hope not. I don't think he cares much anymore. Didn't talk to me at all yesterday, though he did wake me up from a nap this afternoon. I don't even want to think about when he came in.

"Got his phone, though. Nicked it when he stood." The girl sits back in her chair, revealing a blank wall across the room from her. A third of an empty bed frame is visible over to her right. The phone in her hand is slim and sleek, and she spends a couple minutes messing about with it.

It explodes in her hands. The video cuts out.

Her fingers are professionally bandaged in the next shot, as are her forearms and part of her lap. The skin not covered in white was glowing red. She is frowning.

"So. Acid. Fun. I'm not touching his phone again," she states clearly while bringing another cell phone out of nowhere, fiddling around with it even as she continues talking. "It had several non-lethal defense mechanisms installed, and I guess I triggered one of the fun ones. I wish it weren't my only hope for getting information on the outside world. My laptop's locked: I can post videos through an app he's installed but I can't even reply back to the comments, if I ever get any. I can't even browse! What I wouldn't give for some cats in hampers right about now."

That's when the second phone exploded. The video doesn't resume.


	3. Vine

"I Can Haz Cheezburger Plz. Ever heard of it? Yeah, well, now dozens of pictures with that logo are my screensaver and Nyan Cat starts playing every time I go to the bathroom. What did I do to deserve this?"

She groans. The ink stains from the most recent mobile phone attempt have yet to be washed from her face.


	4. You've got mail.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Harassment, suicide, child abuse. 
> 
> Johann gets hate mail.

"Youtube. Hi. This is going to be a short message today. I'd like dedicate this to all my haters."

Johann comes on screen with a dangerously calm face, posture falsely loose. Her fists begin to shake hard enough to be visible at her shoulders. "I've got a message for all the people who don't believe me. This video is for everyone who thought I was lying and were vocal about it. To the people who go on Youtube and seek me out, and then _laugh_. This is for you."

She's looking down at her lap. The tremble that had started when she began talking about her current life faded away to nothing. Determination and solitude took its place.

"This is the bit where I tell you he beats me daily. Yeah? But despite what you think, I'm not lying about any of this and saying that would make me a liar. He's hurt me a lot, sure, but physically? Just the once, and I think he might think it was an accident." She laughs, brokenly. "It wasn't, though, not entirely. He meant to lash out but I don't think he ever realized that his actions would have consequences.

“Yeah, you heard that right. I don't think he knows that he can hurt someone, much less someone he cares about."

Her eyes are closed for nearly twelve seconds before she realizes and blinks them open. "I mentioned that, didn't I? That he cares. About me. He's not a bad man in that, he really does want the best for me, it's just that I'm not sure any of us know just what that 'best' is, yeah?”

She’s talking with her hands now, arms illustrating the picture that she’s trying to get across. "So he lashes out a lot, gets angry and obsessed and depressed and all that a lot more easily than I do. But that's the point,” she shrieks, slamming one hand down on the desk and making the laptop bounce. “Isn't it? We are _not_ all the same, our difficulties _differ_ , but we all fuck up and being alive just means one more opportunity for something to fuck us up even more.”

Her anger drains and her hands settle in her lap, left hidden by the right.

“Because that's life, yeah. And then we die, the great equalizer. What a bitch."

She laughs a bit, throwing her head back to get the hair out of her eyes so that she can blink up at the ceiling. Each breath is a little more staggered than the last.

"So that's it, I guess. You, my loving Youtube trolls, asked for how I really thought this game would play out, and that's it. That's the rest of my life laid out on film, one major fuck up after another. I hope you're happy with it."

Her face was wiped clean of expression when she looked back at the camera.

"So whose bright idea was it to tell a teenager to 'go jack off or kill yourself', hm? Cute, that one commenter who said he wanted to watch either way. And what about 'just find a good weed dealer, problem solved' or, ooh, my favorite: 'Why don't you go jump off a building already?' Dear me, why haven't I. By all rights I should be suicidal by now. Might be. I'm not telling you. But there's a reason I don't find my brains splattered on the streets appealing, a reason I won't ever commit suicide, no matter how I might feel: My best friend just did it for me.

“Yeah, Sherlock Holmes, remember him, brilliant detective who got harassed off the roof of a hospital while his best friend watched? Yeah, thanks for that, you fuckwads. It's hard enough to see in my dreams, I don't need you to plaster it all over my comments wall every day too."

Her nostrils flare and it takes a good few seconds for her to get composed. Then she grins wolfishly, an expression learned from Jim, and stares dead on at the camera.

"Are you happy with that answer, Youtube? Are you happy telling a kid that all she's worth is the newspaper article when her head hits the concrete and she gets put in the ground right next to her best friend?"

She was shaking her head now, and her grin had faded past a smile and into a blank stare. "Because I'm not. And I won't stop fighting for my life. You dicks."

The video clicks off.

 

 


	5. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen, none of them good. No one leaves the room happy, if they ever leave the room at all.
> 
> This is where the 'victims' and 'violence' tags come in.

The last video is short but graphic. It depicts a warehouse that has been decorated like someone's sitting room might be for a young child's birthday party: Streamers and balloons everywhere, and if it weren't for the concrete floors and vaulted ceilings, the fancy sofa wouldn't even appear out of place.

Dressed in a painter's smock and a party hat, the Johann on the film comes up to bat in front of the first of four piñatas with a baseball bat in her hands. The autographed aluminum would be easily recognized by a baseball fan but the blindfold over Johann's eyes prevents her from seeing it.

With a motion both smooth and practiced she swings the bat, making a solid hit.

The piñata screams.

The next piñata in line screams as well and twists away, and the scene devolves quite quickly from there. Within moments three of the piñatas are struggling and crying through gags hidden underneath cheerful holiday wrapping paper, and Johann backs up against the far wall and panics quietly on her own, concrete at her back and the blindfold still affixed over her eyes.

Jim, whose body is visible up to the shoulders, the rest replaced by what appears to be a pixelated image of Hello Kitty, drags Johann by the elbow back over to the living piñatas. She fights him and they argue but he wins, and he forces her to hold one of the piñata people still as he removes a struggling human arm from the wrapping paper.

Jim's voice is muffled but legible, a gentle warning, "Hold your hand out and you might not die." But the person inside the piñata costume doesn't appear to be listening until Jim says, "Fine. Hold it out or I will cut it off and hold it myself."

The pale hand goes still, or as still as possible while trembling in fear and exhaustion. The hand is fairly large but slightly disproportionate to the relative size of body; likely a teenager's in the middle of a growth spurt.

Then-Johann pipes up, voice charged and posture tense. "What will you do to him?"

The video cuts out slightly, although the 'him' in question whimpers quite clearly. Jim says something that the microphone doesn't pick up. He brings out a flask to shake enticingly in Johann's face, and her face - partially obscured by Jim's body - morphs from fear to anger in a heartbeat. She leaps at him with both hands clawed.

They struggle momentarily over the flask. Jim plays fair for a minute or so, a minute in which he appears to enjoy watching her strive and fail to capture the prize. Eventually he stops playing fair: Even fourteen inches of height is enough for Jim to hold the flask irrevocably out of Johann's reach.

"Dad!" Johann protests. The blindfold is on the concrete some feet away.

"John!" He says back, mockingly. She flinches. "Well I can't be fair all the time. I'd never get anything done."

Jim opens the flask out of Johann's reach. He says something lowly, silky and dark, obviously a threat even if the words aren't discernable on the tape, but he stops mid-sentence with an approving noise at the back of his throat.

A gun goes off, the screen goes black. There's more screaming, most of it female and shrill, and then the audio cuts as well.


End file.
